Well, I did make it to Valencia after my gut wrenching four hour bus ride from Barcelona. When I was on the bus, I read in my handy Valencian tourist brochure (which I´d picked up from some Swedish chicks in Barcelona - score!) that metros are very good in Valencia, and have been specially designed with tourists in mind. So I figured once I arrived at the bus station I would catch the nearest metro to my hostel - easy... When I arrived, I asked at the information desk where the metro was, and the man behind the counter muttered something in Spanish, and waved his pudgy fingers to the right and continued reading his newspaper. So I headed outside, walked for about 10 minutes with my pack (which now weights 14.5kgs - I left with 12!) and still no metro was in sight. I consulted my map (which didn´t have metro stops listed - awesome) and decided to just walk to my hostel - it didn´t look too far away. 40 MINUTES LATER... I arrived at my hostel for the night, Center Valencia. After dumping my bag, I went out to explore the town.

I was very lucky to have booked a hostel in the old (and main) part of town - it is so beautiful! I was very pleasantly surprised, especially considering I´d just come from dirty, run down Barcelona (it´s what´s on the inside that counts...). The buildings are a lovely sandstone, there are green parks and gardens everywhere, fountains, and there were literally hundreds of council workers working tirelessly to make the streets sparkle. Much nicer indeed. After exploring the old town a bit, I decided to head over to the beach and grab some lunch. Valencia´s beaches are much nicer than Barcelona´s (still nothing in comparison to Australia´s). The beach itself is very very wide, and the council has installed these great boardwalks that run from the sidewalk to about halfway down the width of the beach - there are also showers about halfway down the boardwalk (handy for getting rid of the sand in your togs before it becomes more of an issue when walking...). I was getting very hungry by that point, so I went in search of a nice little cafe or take away place to grab a bite - they are non-existent on the Valencian beaches. Nothing. Not even a greasy Spanish fish and chips equivalent. I had to settle for the street food that was being sold all along the beach - smoky corn on the cob that tasted like it had washed up on the beach before being thrown over some hot coals. Bummer.

At the metro station on my way back to the hostel, I ran into some Aussies who were also having a bit of trouble purchasing tickets from the ticket machines. When ended up in the same carriage together, and it was terribly amusing listening to them make fools of our nation by loudly comparing share house stories e.g. complete open door policies, taking number two´s in the top of people´s toilets, etc. Hooray to be Australian! Turns out that when I arrived back at my hostel, one of the said Aussies was actually my roommate! I ended up heading out for paella with them later that night - there were about seven of us in total. Valencia was completely over-run with Australians for La Tomatina! I did not meet one person who wasn´t from Australia (or NZ) the entire time I was in Valencia! I think it´s funny that food fights appeal so much to our people...

After a good hostel breakfast Tuesday morning, I checked out of Center Valencia, and headed to Home Hostel where I would be staying for the next three nights on with my La Tomatina tour group First Festival Tours. After checking in, my new friend Kathryn and I decided to go on a free walking tour. It was great! Our tour leader´s name was Johnny, from Liverpool, and he was incredibly informative. He´s only lived in Valencia for three weeks (and the tours have only been running one week) - I could not believe how knowledgeable he was (or how he managed to cram all that information into his normal sized head). He took us all around the old town to some awesome sights. I will explain most of them in the photos, but there were a few things I couldn´t get photos of that I will mention here...

Valencia was originally built by the Romans many many centuries ago (I wish I could remember what year...), and has been torn/burnt down and rebuilt many times. One site Johnny showed us was some original Roman foundations that had been discovered in the 1980´s when, once again, rebuilding part of the city. They have since been uncovered and preserved with a glass ceiling over top that sits at street level, so you can look down into the foundations of years before.

As with the rebuilding, burning down, rebuilding, burning down cycle, there have been many periods of poverty in Valencia. Johnny took us to a church, right on the main street, and told us possibly the saddest story I have heard so far on this trip. At the very top of the church, on top of the steeple, is the bronze figure of a bird. This bird is holding a piece of string in its mouth, and at the end of the string is tied a single egg. In times of poverty, when families could not scrape together enough food to feed their families, mothers would bring their children to the steps of this church and tell them, now you watch that egg up there, held by the bird. Keep you eye on it, because as soon as that bird drops that egg, you will have something to eat. And then the mothers would abandon their children, right there on the church steps. Tragic.

That evening we met our tour group on the hostel´s amazing rooftop terrace, and were filled in on events over the next few days. I got settled into my dorm room with (you guessed it), five other Australians - two pairs, and one solo traveler, but they all knew each other from home (Melbourne).

The next morning I woke up feeling absolutely dreadful. My stomach alternated between cramping and nausea, I felt faint, my head ached, my muscles ached, and it felt like my skin was crawling. Not good. I thought maybe I was just hungry, so I stumbled down the main street to the fresh produce market, and bought some bread and fruit, as well as some poppers to drink. I slept all day and in the afternoon, I realised that I had to make a decision - I was supposed to be going to a Water and Wine festival that night in a little town outside of Valencia. Could I possibly make it, or should I tell the tour leaders I am too ill to go? I would hate to go to that, and then be too sick to make it to the main attraction, La Tomatina. I decided to have a chat to the tour leaders and see if they could take me to a pharmacist. One of the Spanish leaders took me and acted as translator between me and the lovely, helpful pharmacist. In the end, they said I had a virus and was badly dehydrated, so have my some rehydration mix (which tasted like orange flavoured milk!) and sent me off to bed. I spent all that night up and down going to the bathroom. It was horrible.

BUT I MADE IT TO LA TOMATINA!

La Tomatina was a bit different to what I was expecting - no less fun, just different. It is definitely a boys game. Not so good for smaller people. When we arrived we headed for the main street, which is apparently where everyone else decided to go. Imagine a street with sheer concrete buildings up each side (kind of like an alleyway) that is about 10 metres wide. Now, imagine squishing 10,000 people into this tiny, cramped street, most of them slightly drunk, very excited, and with lots of testosterone flowing. CRAZY! We got squished and squashed amongst the crowd as everyone tried all at once to get to the end of this street, where apparently some genius was doing the traditional pole climb - they grease up a pole and put a ham at the top, first one to get up there wins. Again, CRAZY! Though the sea of people, Kate (from my room) and I eventually caught a wave into a side street, where we could once again breath. The other four girls got partially out, but decided to try stick it out inside the huge crush. Feeling like party poopers, but glad to be out with our limbs in tact, Kate and I decided to watch the action to begin with, and see if we can´t catch a rouge tomato to throw at each other. Just then (this is getting suspenseful,isn´t it??) we saw some girls walking back from another side street, absolutely covered in tomatoes! So Kate and I decided to follow them and found the best side street! It was the starting point for the tomato trucks, so all of the tomatoes got dumped there first, which meant we had first pick! And being in a side street, not the main street, meant that we could actually move around, swing our arms, and have a bit of room to throw those tomatoes! HOORAY! So Kate and I got stuck into it, and came out even more tomato covered than our friends (who, being in the main street, couldn´t lay a hand on any tomatoes). I didn´t take my camera with me, but I did take a disposable camera, so as soon as I get the photos onto a disk, I´ll upload them. It was a very fun and different day, but I was still pretty ill, so spent the afternoon and night resting up in bed. I was leaving for Milan the next morning.

As I still wasn´t feeling to well, it was 35 degrees outside, and I was couchsurfing tonight (and could afford to splurge), I decided to take a taxi to Valencia airport for my flight to Milan. I AM SO GLAD I DID! The ride there was pretty much a tourist attraction in itself. My taxi driver was your typical cabbie (sorry to typecast...) - dark sunnies, chewing gum with his mouth open, a ´70s handlebar goatee, and BO that smells like he ate cigarettes for breakfast - let´s call him Stu. It was a little disconcerting zooming around the Valencia city at 75km per hour (especially considering we were driving on the wrong side of the road, which is the right, right?)! Once we reached to highway, Stu kicked it at 125km per hour! He had a total disrespect for that handy lever beside the steering wheel (known as the indicator in Australia, not sure if they have them in Europe), he just changed lanes when he damn well felt like! This was all terribly helpful for me, as I had chosen the worst possible time to check out of my hostel (12pm, which meant people were trying to check in too) so subsequently I was running a tad late. At one stage during our 15 minutes amusement ride, Stu looked across the passenger seat into the cab of the truck next to us, perhaps to check if it was his buddy Mick from high school. We swerved a bit, but Stu regained control of our roller coaster expertly. It was also then that he remembered he hadn´t fastened his seatbelt. Best 14 Euros I´ve spent in a while.

Again, I´m trusting my life with the cheapest wings in the sky, Ryan Air, for my flight to Milan. As Ryan Air doesn´t allocate seats, it´s quite amusing to watch people push and shove to get onto the plane first to snare those elusive ´good seats´ before someone else does. Firstly, I don´t think ´good seats´ exist on Ryan Air flights. Secondly, getting on first means that you usually get a window seat, but it also means that every time you need to get up to go to the toilet, etc, you have to clamber over the 4 other people in your row. When you´re sitting in the aisle, you´re free to do whatever you please, and your not stuck elbow to elbow with other passengers. So I usually wait until the last boarding call for the flight before I amble onto the overcrowded plane. Aren´t I a smart cookie?

So that was my Valencia! I´m quite bummed that I got sick there, as it was much nicer than Barcelona, and I didn´t get to see everything I would have liked, swim at the beach, or just absorb the atmosphere (I was trying to absorb as many fluids as I could instead!). I hope that one day I´ll get to go back there, and do it over again.

Talk to you soon!

Love Hayley xxx